


Before He Drowns

by Batsutousai



Series: Tales of the Fairy Men [1]
Category: Den lille Havfrue | The Little Mermaid - Hans Christian Andersen, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, F/M, Love Triangles, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Self-Sacrifice, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 16:31:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom would give anything to see the Above and marry the man who caught his eye, even his existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before He Drowns

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Marvel. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The characters of Thomas "Tom" Hiddleston is based on a real person, and no offence is intended; this is only for the amusement of myself and other like-minded (read: mentally ill) fans.
> 
> **A/N:** This is part of a series of fics based on [a challenge](http://batsutousai.tumblr.com/post/38980067347) to write your OTP using various fairy tales. And colours. Twelve fics, one per month, for the entirety of 2013.  
>  January's prompt was _Rumpelstilsken_ and the colour turquoise. I couldn't think of anything for _Rumpelstilsken_ , and I was given four freebies, so I went with _The Little Mermaid_ , instead. (I was going to do _Beauty and the Beast_ , for varied and obvious reasons, but decided turquoise didn't really fit, so... _Little Mermaid_.)  
>  I decided to follow the original _Little Mermaid_ , rather than going the Disney route, so this fic does NOT end happily. Also, there is a very pervasive sense of religion in the original, and I kept as much of that as I could stand. So if Christianity makes you twitchy, this fic may have you wanting to stab your own eyeballs out at times. (Merlin knows I wanted to, once or twice.)  
> Also, debated a bit about who to make the mermaid – or mer _man_ , really – and ended up going with the less obvious choice. For reasons.
> 
> Uber thanks to MischiefRulesHere for a beta read, despite his catching the flu. ♥♥

Tom had been enamoured of the Above for longer than he could remember. The way the light from the Great Circles fell between the surface waves and sparkled against bubbles of built-up air; the too-blue of the world beyond the turquoise; the way there was only the Life when those white creatures living next to the Great Circles darkened with blessing; the glimmer of smaller circles made by the White Circle. 

The Above was an impossible place, he had always been told, where creatures that didn't need the Life could exist, but they moved only along sand, held to it by an irresistible force. 

_'What force?'_ Tom had asked, once. 

_'The Soul's force,'_ his grandmother had replied. _'For those of the Above alone have Souls, and those Souls let them exist without the Life, but they are forever trapped by the sand.'_

A Soul, Tom knew, was a wonder, but also a curse. For a Soul promised Eternity in the Great Above, but it also cursed its bearer to a short existence. But for those who lived in the Life – the merfolk, Tom's people – there was only their existence, and it was a cruel trade, their long existence for an Eternity. 

_'The Life and the Soul are of a kind,'_ Grandmother had explained when he'd mentioned such. _'They are like North and South; they might never meet. And so those with a Soul die in the Life, and those who exist in the Life never exist beyond it.'_

Tom _wanted_ to discover the Above, though. He wanted a Soul and to exist away from the Life. He wanted to move only along sand, to see the Circles without the taint of turquoise, because it was new and different and wasn't existence all about enjoying yourself? That's what Grandmother often said. 

And so, when his twenty-fifth birthday came, he took his promised day and swam up to the Above, for all who existed in the Life were granted one day of exploration, and he would make everything of his. 

And the first sight he should see was one of those beasts the beings of the Above directed, warning fish away from certain death. Tom ducked his head back into the Life and peered over a small wave. At the edge of the beast was a creature like him, but where Tom had fins, this man had two long arms. _No,_ Tom corrected himself. _They are called 'legs'. Crabs have them, for they might walk in the Above._ Crabs were marvellous creatures; Tom wished he might be reborn a crab. 

The man on the beast was beautiful, like the shine of the Great Circles, and Tom couldn't quite make himself look away as he smiled, threw his head back and let out the most wonderful sound. 

Tom had presence of mind to keep his distance, but little else. That, plus his unfamiliarity with the Above, left him unaware of the darkening creatures near the Great Circles and the danger that offered for the man and his floating creature. In truth, the man showed no fear, either, dropping his head back and smiling as the Life started down, wetting the green covering his chest and his dark hair. 

And Tom thought, _Truly, those of the Above look most beautiful when blessed with the Life._ And he'd thought the beings of the Above couldn't survive in the Life, but this man seemed well enough. 

And then, unexpected in the stillness and quiet beat of the Life against waves, judgement as bright as the Great Circles came down from the creatures Far Above, loud and cruel on the floating creature. Tom let out a shout of fear and dove back under the waves, thinking to return home to the palace before recalling the man and the stories about them dying in the Life, and would it not be a shame for such a beautiful man to move to the Great Beyond so soon? 

Tom found the man sinking through the Life, eyes closed and body spread like peace, bubbles drifting after him like a long, straight fin. Tom pushed under him and swam them past the angry creatures of the Far Above, to the sand. There, struggling with a fin and the weight of this man's Soul, Tom dragged him above the tide and carefully brushed dark hair away from his face. 

Oh, he was even more beautiful close-up. 

Tom forced himself to look away from that gentle beauty, for his time tasting the Above was near done, and he wished to see this man safe. 

A woman of the Above was in the distance, facing away from the shore. Tom slid back into the tide with one last touch to this beautiful man, and called, "Oiy!" as he might have when trying to catch the attention of one of his sisters. 

The distant woman glanced towards the shore, and must have seen Tom's beautiful man, for she dropped the basket she'd been holding and started moving so quickly across the sand. 

Tom stayed long enough to watch his beautiful man wake, then returned to the Life. 

\--

Tom spent too much time wasting away, staring up at the Above, according to his sisters. 

"Should not a single visit have cured you of that?" Emma complained with a roll of her eyes and a flip of her tail. 

"It is not the Above that Tom craves," Grandmother said as she settled in next to him, and Tom glanced towards her briefly before he again looked up, towards the shore where his beautiful man had been left. "You should never have touched one of the Above," she whispered, her aging hands smoothing through the blond curls that topped Tom's head. 

And Sarah, who was older and liked to think she was wiser – she often was, much to her siblings' consternation – said, "We shall have to distract him, then, as we have never distracted him before." 

They tried and tried, teasing him to sing all his favourite songs, and offering all his favourite foods, but nothing changed. 

So Sarah and Emma, telling no one of their plans, brought an unresisting Tom to the Sea Witch Namor, who lived in a hovel at the edge of their kingdom, selling his spells to any willing to pay the price. 

"Our brother wishes to join one of the Above," Sarah told the Witch. 

"And does Prince Tom understand the price he will pay?" the Witch asked. 

Tom, who had been distracted from watching the Above by the promise of returning to it and his beautiful man, insisted, "I'll pay _any_ price." 

Namor nodded. "Your voice, for my services," he said. 

Tom gave a moment's hesitation – for could he live without his voice? – and then he was nodding, determined, for he would rather exist in silence with his beautiful man in the Above, than have a voice and no care for anything in the Life. 

The Witch nodded again and pulled down a scroll of seaweed. "Beware," he cautioned, old eyes dark and catching Tom's attention like little else. "This spell will cost you; to split your tail is pain beyond any your have ever felt, and it will ever hurt; such promise of pain has turned many away." 

Tom shook his head. "I won't turn away; I would suffer anything to be in the Above with him." 

"Ah." The Witch pulled down another scroll of seaweed. "True love, then; this spell is simpler, and will gift the grace of movement you have with your tail on your new feet, but it has the same pains. Only... To exist truly as one of the Above, you will need a Soul, to weigh you down. From your true love, you must gather a kiss, and the promise of Forever Love. Should he bestow these on another, you will be cursed to fade away to nothing in that very moment, never to see the Great Beyond. Do you understand this, Prince?" 

Tom nodded. "Yes," he whispered, and he did. 

"Hold him," the Witch directed his sisters, and Emma and Sarah each took an arm, expressions tight with a fear that Tom didn't feel. 

The Witch stole, first, his voice and placed it safely away in a jar for use in some future spell. Then he chanted his spell over Tom, eyes hypnotising until the moment the pain hit. 

And, oh, such _pain_! Like catching a rock along his tail, but going on and on and on. He threw his head back to scream in silence as his tail split in two and shaped itself into two long protrusions below his sex. 

When it had ceased, he fell against Emma and Sarah's arms, drained and sick to his stomach. 

"The spell will complete in the Above. Best to go quickly; he will not survive forever in the Life," the Witch cautioned, already turning away. 

"Come on," Emma whispered, and she and Sarah hurried Tom to the Above, stopping just shy of breaking the surface of the waves. 

"We love you," Sarah said, brushing a hand through Tom's curls. 

"Please remember to visit," Emma added. "I'll have my day in two years, and I want you to be there." 

Tom nodded and smiled and kissed them both. Then he pushed away from them and let his head break the surface of the Life. There, he stopped to breathe in and orient himself. But his sisters had done well, and it was only a few moments awkward paddle to the shore he had left his beautiful man on. 

When he reached the sand, his legs moved as though he had always had them, but agony shot across the wide, flat parts of them, so terrible he stumbled and fell. But, no, pain would not stop him. So he forced himself to stand on them and walk, walk, walk. And still it hurt, but he made himself ignore the pain. 

He ignored the pain and did a twirl, for he was in the Above, standing on sand with two legs all his own. He would find his beautiful man and kiss him until he gave him promise of Forever Love. And Tom would have a Soul and move on the the Great Beyond. 

He twirled again, as graceful as though he was swimming through the Life, and he did a little leap, marvelling at the way his legs moved, the way he could bow and sweep with them, almost more controlled than with a tail and fins. Oh, the freedom was glorious, and he let out a silent laugh to cover the pain. 

"You move most stunningly," a voice so beautiful Tom could cry said from behind him. 

He spun in place and froze to see his beautiful man, dressed in dark green and black, hair dancing around his face in the wind. Tom stumbled, surprised, and the man caught him as though he weighed nothing. 

"Be careful. All that spinning, you must be dizzy." 

Tom smiled and shook his head. No, he was not dizzy from dancing; the pain of his feet kept him focussed. 

The beautiful man was smiling. "And where _are_ your clothes?" 

Tom blinked, confused. 'Clothes?' he mouthed, unfamiliar with the word. 

The beautiful man's expression fell. "Can you not speak?" 

Tom shook his head and looked away, ashamed. He'd once had the most beautiful voice in all the court, though he thought his beautiful man could easily have him beat. 

The beautiful man let Tom go and stripped off the green he wore over his torso. "Here," he said, and slipped it over Tom's head. "Arm through the hole. This one fir– You act as though you've never worn a tunic before," he said, and his beautiful voice sounded even more so with a sarcastic edge. 

Tom blushed, because this was not right, was terrible. His beautiful man would hate him because he knew nothing of the Above, and he would leave Tom on the shore and find Forever Love with another and Tom would die alone and with no promise of the Great Beyond. 

"Don't–" The beautiful man let out a sound that was half irritated, half helpless, and forced Tom's chin up, meeting the most brilliant green eyes with Tom's turquoise. "Stop that," he said, a gentle order, and wiped a thumb under one of Tom's damp eyes. "I detest it when people cry." 

And that just made more of the Life leak from Tom's eyes, because his beautiful man detested him already. He should probably just save himself the pain and die now, next to the Life. 

"Loki!" a voice called, and a large man with long hair the colour of the Yellow Circle came into sight. " _There_ you are!" he said upon seeing Tom's beautiful man. 

The beautiful man's lips curled with a sneer and he turned to the large man. "Thor," he allowed. "Must you follow me _everywhere_?"

The large man – _Thor,_ Tom thought, _and my beautiful man must be **Loki**_ – pointed a big hand at Tom's beautiful man. "You almost drowned not three weeks ago, and you keep coming back here, like you're revisiting it. And where in _God's_ name is your tuni–?! Oh." He finally caught sight of Tom and gentled his voice. "Hello, there. Has Loki been being his nasty self to you?" 

"I did no such thing," Loki snarled. "He just started _crying_ , like some _girl_."

Thor sighed and gently turned Tom – who was leaking the Life again – towards him. "Hush, hush," he soothed while Loki turned away, back tense. "I apologise for my brother, that he is so cruel. Please don't take it to heart. He truly doesn't mean his words." 

"Do," Loki grunted. 

Thor reached out and shoved him with what must have been truly great strength, for Loki stumbled and almost fell. When he turned back to glare, his cheeks had flushed a deep red. 

Thor just smiled at him and turned back to Tom, who was finally regaining control of the odd actions of his eyes. "Come now, that's better. I'm Thor, then, and that's my little brother, Loki. What's your name?" 

Tom shook his head and Loki helpfully supplied, "He can't talk." 

Thor's brow furrowed. "And you tormented him anyway? _Loki_."

"I did no such thing!" Loki yelled. "Why must you always think the worst of me?" 

"Because I'm always right to!" Thor yelled right back. 

Loki's mouth turned with a snarl and he spun to stalk away, but Tom danced forward and pressed against his back, arms around Loki's waist. It was a move Emma had employed on himself or Sarah when they were in a rare temper, and it had always seemed somehow calming; he could only hope Loki felt the same. 

Loki stiffened in his hold and turned his head to stare over his shoulder at Tom. Something in Tom's expression must have spoken to him, for he let out a heavy breath and relaxed. "Can you read?" he asked, and it took Tom a moment to realise he was asking him. 

Tom quickly nodded, because yes, of _course_ he could read. He'd been taught since he was a child, as all merchildren were. 

One of Loki's eyebrows raised. "Can you spell your name?" 

And, oh, why hadn't _Tom_ thought of that? He stepped away from Loki and dropped to the sand to trace his name into it. 

"T-O-M," Thor said, coming up behind Tom. "Tom?" 

Tom smiled up at the two brothers and nodded. 

"Plebeian," Loki said with a sniff. 

" _Loki_ ," Thor said, tired and maybe a little resigned. 

Tom bit his bottom lip for a moment, then carefully traced his full name, the one no one had used since his mother left with her lover so long ago. 

"Thomas," Loki said, and Tom thought, maybe, he could get used to hearing that name from him. 

Thor knelt next to him in the sand, gaze curious. "Tom," he started, and Tom smiled at the name he was more comfortable with, "where are you from?" 

And it hit Tom, then, like a particularly strong current: He no longer had a home. He was _alone_ , but for the kindness of strangers. So he ducked and shook his head, trying not to let the Life escape his eyes again. 

Thor's hand, huge and heavy, like Tom's father's, pressed gently against his back. "I am sorry, my friend," he said, voice a low rumble, and Tom ducked his head a little tighter against his chest. Thor let out a heavy sigh, then decided, "Let us back to the castle. Tom could use some proper clothing, and Loki his tunic back. And then we might find a place for you here." 

So, to the castle they went, Tom between the two brothers the whole way. Others of the Above watched as they stepped past, and Tom tried not to stare back, but everything was so _new_! Everyone wore coverings like what Loki had given him, but in all the colours of the Life. Smaller creatures stood behind short walls with holes in them, placidly eating whatever was in their reach, or following along behind people on strings. 

And the _structures_! Created in something brown or in stone, but built by hand, not grown from coral or carved into the rocks. They had such odd shapes, all straight lines and sharp edges. Then there was the overabundance of plant life in bright greens and dark browns, the speckling of flowers in purples and yellows, the changing of sand to stone under his feet. Tom thought it might feel divine, the stone, but his feet hurt too much to tell, and he turned his attention to the great towers of stone growing from the tall plants ahead of them to distract himself from the pain. 

Inside the great towers – which did not, in fact, grow from the plants, but had been half hidden by them – was stone and stone and more stone, shaped and placed by the hands of these people. Tom was in awe, and his forced silence was very likely for the best, for he would otherwise have been babbling about _everything_ , and that would be no way to make a good impression. Unless Loki liked people who babbled. (Tom suspected he didn't.) 

Loki and Thor ushered him into a room that was well-furnished. There, Loki collected a new tunic for himself – "You're already wearing that one, you might as well just keep it," he snapped when Tom fumbled at removing the covering he'd been gifted – and leg covers for Tom. Trousers, Loki had called them, then let out an irritated noise when Tom couldn't figure out what to do with them and assisted him in putting them on, snarling curses at a laughing Thor while Tom blushed at how much the fool he must seem. 

Loki was just straightening again, looking rather irritated, when there came a pounding on the door before it was pushed open, admitting an older man who strongly resembled Thor and had some sort of covering over one eye. "I have heard rumours of you accompanying a peasant through these halls?" he boomed, even as his uncovered eye settled on Tom like a promise of his death. 

Suddenly, Loki is between them, shoulders tense and back stiff. "He is to be my new manservant," he stated coolly. 

Thor let out a faint note of surprise. 

"Recall our agreement, Loki," the elder in the doorway said, voice low and dangerous, "If you cannot keep from killing one more manservant in a fit of pique–"

"I have _never_ –"

" _Hold your tongue_!" the man roared, and Loki's mouth fell shut with an audible click. "If you kill this one, it's the streets for you, boy." 

"I'm aware," Loki got out from behind clenched teeth. "I won't kill him." 

"That's what you said the last _two_ times. What great skill does _this_ one have?" 

"He's mute," Thor offered. "He cannot speak a word." 

"Move," the man ordered, and Loki hesitated for a moment before stepping to one side and once again baring Tom to the one-eyed stare. " _Speak_ , boy!" he ordered. "Speak your name for your king!" 

Tom swallowed and shook his head. 

"Speak or die," the one-eyed man rumbled. 

"Father–" Thor started, but fell silent when the man cut him a glare. 

When he looked back at Tom, he shook his head again. 

"So be it," the man said, and he had a glimmering stick in his hand without seeming to have moved to bring it from wherever it had been hidden. He brought it down – quick and threatening – on Tom's head. 

Tom was not familiar with this weapon, but he knew something meant for war when he saw it, and he let out a silent shout and dove out of the way, because there was no way he was just going to _stand there_ and let some mad man with one eye rend him in two. Or whatever damage such a weapon would do. 

And then Loki was there again, standing stiffly between Tom and the one-eyed man. "Are you sufficiently convinced, or have you need to deprive me of my new manservant by sending him fleeing for fear of his life?" he asked, sarcasm heavy in his words. 

The one-eyed man grunted and turned his weapon on himself, sliding it into a cleverly hidden sleeve at his side. And now that Tom knew what that was for, he realised that Thor wore one too, as did some of the people they'd seen once they entered the stone towers. Loki did not, and Tom allowed himself the briefest of moments to wonder over that before his thoughts were interrupted by the one-eyed man saying, "As you please, then. The Lord above knows I can't stop you." 

"And yet, you are–"

" _Thank you_ , Father," Thor interrupted, speaking over Loki, "for your concern. For the moment, perhaps you will allow us to show Tom around the castle and familiarise him with his duties?" 

The one-eyed man grunted again and turned away. "Yes, yes. As you were, then." And he left. 

"Our father, King Odin the Wise," Thor offered to Tom. 

"More like King Odin the Fool," Loki muttered, turning to face Tom. 

" _Loki_ ," Thor complained. 

Loki took Tom's chin in one hand. "You're of noble blood, are you not?" he demanded. 

Tom felt his breath catch and he nodded, for there was no reason to deny it. 

"What?" Thor breathed. 

"He reads and writes; peasants don't learn such," Loki said to his brother. To Tom, he demanded, "Do you even intend to return to your old station?" 

Tom shook his head. 

" _Can_ you return?" 

Tom shook his head again, and felt the Life prickling at his eyes. 

"If you were to learn something about myself or my father or Thor, could you use that knowledge to buy your way back into your old station?" 

Tom started shaking his head almost from the start of the question, because nothing he did would allow him back into the embrace of the Life. Even if he _could_ return, he wouldn't betray Loki's secrets for it; to his people, betrayal of trust was the worst of crimes, and that was why his mother leaving had left his family so broken, and had him refusing the name she had given him at birth. 

Loki let his chin go. "Good. I will warn you now, there are those in this castle and these lands that would pay you a handsome sum for tales of me. Your inability to speak will keep most of them away from you, and we won't be letting anyone know you can read or write, but some will still try. If they do, I want to know who, how much they're offering, and what sort of information they want. I may, at times, give you allowance to trade the information for the money, and then half those coins go to you. Can you do that without giving away your intentions?" 

Tom bit his lip and gave an uncertain nod. 

"Yes, you can, or yes, you'll try your best?" 

Tom held up two fingers. 

Loki sighed. "It will have to do," he decided, stepping away and towards a wall of scrolls and rectangles made of materials Tom was unfamiliar with. "Thor, you are the far better at training menservants." 

"Only because I have more patience," Thor returned with an amused huff before clapping Tom on the back. "Come. Let me show you around, and help you learn a couple faces." And he led Tom from the room, leaving Loki to the scroll he'd pulled out. 

\--

Tom stumbled over many of his new duties, unfamiliar with such busy work, but Loki showed a greater well of patience than it seemed anyone in the castle – Tom included – had expected, so he was not thrown out, nor given lashes, as Odin suggested when Tom dropped a tray during the first dinner. 

"He will learn," Loki had said absently, ignoring Thor's stumbling words of the same nature. Thor's own manservant – a young man named Peter, from his babbled introduction – stuck close to Tom for the rest of the meal, subtly assisting him and steadying his hands when they felt weak from the heavy objects he was made to carry. 

Loki was an easy man to care for, Tom quickly discovered, as he preferred spending time in his rooms with scrolls and what he called 'books'. Tom's ability to read was a boon, in this, for Loki could send him for a book or scroll – sometimes to the main library, with the characters written on a piece of paper for reference, should anyone ask why he had been sent, given he shouldn't have known how to read – rather than being required to collect it himself and lose his place. (It was a difficulty Tom was familiar with, having long enjoyed his own time spent pouring over scrolls.) 

It was on a mission to the main castle library, almost a month after Tom had come to the Above, that he was finally approached by one of Loki's enemies; a smiling woman – Amora, Thor had said when he'd been showing Loki around the first day – cornered him in the back of the large room. "Tom, isn't it?" she'd said, voice like sweet honey, and twice as sticky. 

Tom tensed, but nodded. 

"And you cannot speak," Amora continued, shaking her head for a moment before flashing him a smile that made a shiver run up Tom's spine. "Ah, but you seem to be able to _read_."

Tom quickly shook his head and showed her the paper Loki had written on, then the spine of the book he'd just collected. He pointed between the two and easily put on a proud smile, because he was getting disgustingly good at being proud of his work, and the expression was becoming a familiar one. 

Amora's expression darkened for a moment, then blanked. "You use pictures," she said, and Tom nodded. "Yet, I've seen you collect books without using the paper." She narrowed her eyes. 

Tom blinked and wondered how to explain that he'd always had a good memory – he had, which was what had given him the idea – then he saw the charcoal she held in one hand with some paper. He motioned them and, perplexed, she handed paper and charcoal over. 

There was a design on the front of the book Tom held – Loki called it a 'knot-work', which confused Tom, for it didn't look like any knots he'd ever tied, but those of the Above were odd with their words – and he pointed it out to her, then turned the book over and proceeded to draw it on the paper. When he was done, he held paper and book out for her to look at, proving it was an exact copy, but for the different thickness of the lines. 

Amora huffed and shoved both book and paper back at him. "A good memory; I should have guessed." She turned to leave, but only got two steps before spinning back around, sea foam-green eyes bright with an idea. "If I showed you a series of words – of pictures, like what Loki has you look for – could you find a paper from his desk with the same? Bring it to me?" 

Tom shifted and made an uncertain motion, hoping she took it to mean it would depend on Loki's level of distraction, rather than him needing to check with the prince before agreeing. 

She did and grabbed the charcoal and the paper with the knot-work back, quickly scrawling out a line of text – about grain stores, from what Tom could read upside down – before handing both back to him. "Find me that. Bring it next time you're in the library and leave it..." She glanced around, then pointed to the nearest spiral staircase to the upper level. "Put it under the bottom step, in the shadows. I will collect it and leave your payment in its place." 

Tom frowned and carefully held book and paper under one arm – the charcoal had already been slipped, greedily, into his pocket – before cupping his hands out, then taking one away to shake next to his ear. 

"How much?" she guessed, and Tom nodded, pleased that she understood him without difficulty that time. Amora tapped her bottom lip for a moment, considering, then decided, "Three gold nobles. If you do well, I'll give you more next time." 

Tom knew enough of the currency of the Above to understand that to be an impressive amount for a servant, so he widened his eyes and nodded, then hurried from the library, book and paper held tight to his chest. 

When he rushed back into Loki's room, breathing hard and grinning widely, the prince raised an eyebrow and demanded, "What have you managed _this_ time?" Because it wasn't uncommon for Tom to wear that smile when he'd done some chore or another without difficulty. 

Tom quickly set the book on the desk next to Loki, curling up in the chair the prince had set at the table for him – he'd caught Tom silently crying and rubbing at his feet one night, as though it would ease the pain, after have walked on them all day, and had started demanding the once-merman sat when it was just the two of them – and pulled out the paper Loki had originally written the requested title on. He wrote out _'Amora wants papers on grain stores for 3 gold nobles'_ , then held the note and Amora's scrawled request to the prince. 

Loki considered the note, then Amora's request with a blank expression. "Interesting," he finally said, glancing up at Tom. "Anything else?" 

Tom took the note back and wrote _'She will ask for more, I think. She said she'd give me more money next time, if I do well'._

"So it is to be a long-term treason," Loki murmured, and Tom flinched. Loki's eyes darted to him, flickering with surprise, then he sighed. "I meant _her_ treason, Thomas, not yours," he said firmly, reaching out and cupping Tom's cheek. 

Tom leaned into the contact, soothed by his words as much as he was by his touch. 

Loki continued the contact for a long moment, his lips curling with something like pleasure. Finally, however, he drew his hand away to pull open a drawer. "I see little harm in this," he said as he brought out a couple sheets of paper. "The levels of the grain stores are public knowledge, should anyone wish to ask, and I see no reason to let pass a potential information leak." He handed the papers to Tom. "We'll be sure to buy you something nice with your share of the gold, lest she wonder at whose purse it fills. Perhaps a sword?" 

Tom quickly shook his head, slipping the offered papers into the tray Loki had told him he could keep papers in, should he have any to keep. 

Loki hummed. "No, you don't seem the sort. New shoes, perhaps; I know those pain you." 

Tom glanced down at the worn shoes Thor had found for him his first day. They were a little small, it was true, but they were not the problem behind his pained feet. Not that Tom cared to explain that to his prince. 

"I'll find some reason to send you into town once she's given you your payment. With Peter, perhaps, so you don't get too lost." He shook his head, an amused turn to his mouth, and returned to his reading, leaving Tom to do as he pleased. 

\--

His dealings with Amora quickly enough turned into dealings with half a dozen others in and around the castle. Most paid him in silver or gold, but others paid him in bread or trinkets, and those Loki usually let him keep without demanding his half. 

For the first year, these dealings involved very little that Loki wasn't willing to part with, so Tom only gained stature in the eyes of the prince's enemies, and it appeared clear to them all that Tom was either _very_ good at sneaking his dealings past Loki's sharp eyes, or Loki trusted him so much – or through him so stupid – that he didn't bother watching for any double-crossing. 

Loki, however, was just as careful as ever, and while he certainly seemed to share some trust in Tom, the once-merman knew he was hardly held in such high esteem that Loki would entrust him with everything. 

One evening, Tom returned with a new request – a newer enemy by name of Victor had specified a series of papers with a particular seal on them – and Loki took one look at it before narrowing his eyes and snarling, " _No_."

Tom blinked, but inclined his head and retreated to stoke the fire, as it had near died in his absence. When he returned with Loki's night clothing, he found the prince glaring down at the seal like he might burn through it with only his eyes. Tom gently touched Loki's shoulder. 

Loki spun, one hand raised as though to land a blow, and nearly did so before he stopped himself barely a hair's length from Tom's unflinching face. The prince flinched back and turned away, curling around his hand as though it had been hurt. 

Tom quickly dropped to his knees at the prince's side and reached for the hand – he couldn't be certain it _wasn't_ paining Loki, given he'd sprained that wrist some weeks ago. 

" _Stop_ it, you buffoon," Loki snapped, pulling his arm away from Tom's worried touch. 

Tom settled back on his knees, hurt. 

Loki sighed and brushed his hand through Tom's newly short hair – men of the Above apparently kept their hair _very_ short, unless that man happened to be of the royal family, from what Tom had observed, and he'd been made to keep his own shorter than he was used to. "I'm sorry," he murmured, scraping blunt nails against Tom's scalp in a way that made him want more. "I shouldn't take my anger out on you." He sighed again and slipped his hand from Tom's hair to under his chin, forcing him to look up into those impossibly bright green eyes. "You're the most undeserving man in the entirety of this blasted pile of stone." 

Tom swallowed and touched his hand to Loki's, feeling as though his heart might burst from his chest, so beautiful was his prince. 

Loki shook his head and pulled his hand away. "Right. To bed," he said, but his eyes had turned, again, to that damning seal drawn on paper, and his voice had hardened against it. 

Tom, who could think of no other way to ease the fury creeping, again, over his prince's expression, snatched the paper and ran it to the fire, ignoring Loki's shout of, "Thomas, what do you think–?!" There, he threw it in and stood to watch it crinkle and burn. 

Loki came up behind him as flames began to climb through the centre of the seal, and the prince placed his hands to Tom's sides. "That was a waste of good paper," he commented, voice bland. 

Tom shook his head, because burning something that made Loki so uncomfortable could never be a waste. 

Loki sighed, breath ghosting against Tom's ear and making him shudder, then drew away and ordered, "Dance for me." 

It was not often that Loki requested Tom dance, but it always seemed to ease his mood when it turned foul, and Tom could never deny his prince something that pleased him. So he fell easily into the dance that came so naturally to him, the pain in his feet seeming almost to fade from his thoughts as he moved before the fire, leaping like the flames themselves. 

When he finished, Loki was smiling for him, and Tom knew he'd done well. 

They left Victor to wonder for a few days, until Tom fumbled one of his chores entirely of an accident, and ended up with a darkened cheek. Victor was left to believe Tom had been caught, and all the requests eased off for some weeks, as though the time it took for Tom's cheek to heal was also the time required for Loki's temper to cool. (Tom wasn't sure that was true, for Loki's temper seemed easy for him to ease, but not everyone could dance a smile onto Loki's face.) 

But then the requests came again, as many as ever, and they continued to ebb and flow depending on Loki's reaction to them, but they never truly stopped, nor lessened in numbers. 

\--

Sometimes, Loki would have wish to travel down to the beach where he and Tom had met. Tom would always accompany him, ordered by Thor to keep the younger prince away from the Life – Tom would have done it anyway, because he knew how dangerous the Life was to those of the Above – and carry along some form of lunch they could eat before they returned to the castle, as Loki was little inclined to return in time for lunch, though he would always return for dinner. 

Loki had spent the past day in a foul mood, and had woken, screaming into the night, twice from what seemed the most terrible of dreams. Tom had been unable to discern the reason behind his prince's temper, and had been uncertain how best to soothe him, as his usual gentle actions had done little but leave Loki even more sour. 

When Loki snapped, over breakfast, that he wanted to go to the beach, Tom had been more than happy to oblige, for Loki always seemed a little more peaceful after a visit. 

On the beach, after the blanket with their lunch had been spread out by a rock that would protect it from the wind, Tom kicked off his shoes and followed his feet when they demanded he dance. He completely forgot about Loki, focussing on the movements of his feet, his legs, and keeping away from the sand – and the cursed pain – as much as possible. He leapt and spun and leapt some more. 

Suddenly, when Tom expected to his feet to sink into sand, he found himself caught by his prince, those green eyes bright with something Tom could scarce think to name, but no longer so full of anger. Loki set him lightly into the sand and cupped Tom's cheek. "How have you come to exist?" he murmured, voice low and smooth as the finest silk, only barely carrying over the wind. "How is it that I come upon you when I have need of you most?" 

Tom shook his head, uncertain how he would respond to that, even if he could have. 

"You are a gift to me, my Thomas," Loki said, "Or perhaps a curse." And then he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Tom's. 

Tom stilled for half a breath, then pressed forward, grabbing at Loki's arms as though to keep him there, almost afraid the prince would let go and walk away. 

Loki didn't let go, only wrapped his arm fully around Tom's waist and drew him closer, so close that Tom thought they might well be living within one another's skin. 

Loki pulled his mouth away to gasp out, "Lay with me," and they stumbled their way onto the spread blanket, laying down upon it with their lips but inches apart. And very like how merfolk in love entwined their tails, Tom found his legs tangling with Loki's when they were no longer needed for standing. 

Loki kissed him again, sides of their noses brushing, and Tom completely forgot that there had been a hand on his cheek until it was slipping under his trousers, brushing against his excited sex. He let out a silent gasp, and Loki's tongue pressed into his mouth to slither along his teeth, even as his hand explored along Tom's sex, causing his hips to jerk entirely of their own accord. 

Tom, having spent almost two years as a servant, daren't simply take this impossible pleasure without returning it. So he unclamped a hand from Loki's arm and slipped it into his prince's trousers, taking in hand the assuredly perfect sex he found there. 

"Thomas," Loki breathed against his lips, and his brilliantly green eyes seemed to have nearly vanished behind the black of his pupils. He let out a moan as Tom pressed careful fingers to the tip of his sex, his hips seeking to press the two closer together. "Thomas, my Thomas, _please_ ," Loki whispered, and Tom finally firmed his grip, mirroring Loki's hand on his own sex. 

Loki gasped and moaned enough for both of them, breathing Tom's full name against his lips as their hands moved together – Tom ever a half-step behind, but always learning – on the other's sex. 

Warmth – _pleasure_ – curled along Tom's spine and burrowed low in his belly. Had he voice, he would be whimpering and pleading for ' _more_ ' and ' _please_ ', and his name wouldn't be the only one between them. 

But Tom had no voice, so he showed his thanks – his Forever Love, for surely that's what this meant? – by bringing his prince to completion before allowing himself to come. And the pleasure was blinding and glorious, and he began to understand how those of the Above survived with so short an existence, if this was how they passed time with each other. 

"Stop that," Loki ordered with a laugh once they had both calmed and Tom had brought his hand to his lips to lick at the sticky substance that covered it. "Come. We should wash this off before it dries." 

Tom still licked at the substance, intrigued by the taste: bitter – like the Life after one of the larger ships had passed – but with a hint of something he'd tasted when Loki's tongue had brushed along his. 

They rinsed themselves in the Life, then returned to the blanket to rest and dry in the light of the Yellow Circle, Loki pulling Tom tight against his side. Tom had near fallen to sleep when Loki said, "Father wishes me to marry." 

Tom tensed, familiar with the concept and afraid that this moment on the beach meant nothing to Loki. 

Loki soothed his fingers through Tom's hair. "I have told him no, and no again, for I will not be married off to some woman I have never met." He sighed. "Father will disown me if I refuse to the girl's face, but I care little; she is due two days hence." Bright green eyes caught on turquoise. "Will you come away with me, when I'm disowned?" 

Tom nodded, not even needing to consider the question, for his answer had been certain from the moment he'd carried a drowning Loki to this beach two years before. 

Loki's expression brightened and he pressed a kiss to Tom's lips. "Then, my Thomas, we shall leave in two days, together." 

Tom allowed a moment of sorrow, for he would miss Emma's day on the surface by less than a week, but Loki was more important. And Emma would understand. 

\--

Tom stood just behind Loki's chair at Queen Frigga's right, as the princess' party entered the throne room. Frigga and Odin rose to greet the party, Thor a moment behind them. Loki looked inclined to stay in his chair, scowling for the entire visit, but Odin shot a glare past his wife and Tom pushed at his shoulder to get him moving. So Loki was standing by the time the party reached the bottom of the steps. 

The princess' retainer stepped forward to greet the royal family as was proper, and they all stood through a long introduction. Thor kept covering yawns and Loki kept glancing back at the book Tom was holding for him, but Odin and Frigga kept polite smiles on their faces and pretended their sons weren't being obvious. As for the princess, well, a veil fell over her face and down to her waist, hiding hands and eyes from sight, so only she knew what she was getting to behind it. 

At last, the retainer bowed with a flourish and announced, "May I present, Princess Sigyn." 

The princess raised her veil and smiled up at them, hair like spun gold, eyes as blue as the clearest sky. 

And Loki stopped breathing, attention caught. 

Sigyn curtsied to Odin and Frigga, then looked to Loki and said, "It is gratifying to see you looking so much better, Prince Loki." 

Loki swallowed. "It is gratifying to see you again at all, Princess Sigyn," he returned, voice not unlike how he used it while in private with Tom of late. 

And Tom, standing out of arms reach behind him, felt like his heart had just shattered to the ground with the book that had slipped from his fingers, unnoticed. 

\--

It turned out that Sigyn was the woman who Tom had called over when he'd left Loki on the beach. Loki had fallen in love with her on sight, but she'd vanished without a trace by the time he'd been well enough to seek her out and bestow his thanks upon her. By the time Odin had decreed Loki marry or be disowned, he'd given up on ever finding her, so turned to what he'd believed to be something of a second best: Tom. 

And, now, Tom wasn't even in the picture, beyond being a servant always willing to go pick flowers, or see to it that a picnic was packed for Loki and Sigyn to take down to the beach. 

Tom _wasn't_ willing, but he did it because Loki would always offer him a smile in thanks, distracted as such smiles were. 

"Sometimes," Thor said one afternoon, coming to stand next to where Tom was watching Loki and Sigyn wander the grounds, "Loki's greatest cruelty is how focussed he becomes on one thing, to the exclusion of all else." 

Tom swallowed against the Life that seemed ever present in his eyes. 

"I am sorry, Tom," Thor whispered, and held one arm around Tom's shoulders, pulling until the once-merman curled against his chest. "I'm so, so sorry." 

Tom finally let the Life fall from his eyes, closing them tight against it sinking into fabric that was a bright red, not the green he so desperately needed it to be. 

That night, feeling hollow and having recalled the date, Tom met Loki's cheerful smile with a blank look and a note requesting the next day free. 

Loki took the note and read it over, then raised his eyebrows at his manservant. "You know the wedding preparations begin tomorrow." 

Tom nodded and held out another note he'd prepared, expecting the comment: _'I will work twice so hard the days following; I made a promise to someone I have need to keep.'_

"A promise?" Loki asked, and there was a flair of distrust in his eyes. "A promise to whom? And what does this promise entail?" 

Tom hesitated, then bowed over the desk to write his answer: _'My sister. A last farewell.'_ A statement more true now than it had been when he'd agreed to meet two years previous. 

Loki frowned for a long moment, then he snapped, "You'll be back by dinner." 

Tom nodded. 

Loki huffed. "Fine. As you please." He turned away. "Dress me for bed." 

And that was the end of it. 

\--

Emma was waiting for him when Tom reached the beach, and her smile fell as she took in his blank expression. "Oh, _Tom_ ," she whispered, voice breaking as he stepped far enough into the Life that neither of them strained to remain even with one another in the gentle wash of waves. "Tom, what has occurred?" she pleaded. 

Tom had brought paper and charcoal, and he found a rock jutting up from the Life to write upon, then set about explaining everything to his sister. 

Emma read over his shoulder, letting out quiet noises of distress as he wrote the tragedies of the last week. When he was done, she offered, "Let me to Namor. I'll see if there isn't some way to free you from this curse. Maybe bring you home before your prince ends you himself." 

Tom shrugged and nodded, not sure he cared; what was existence without Loki, after all this time with him? 

Emma swam away and Tom returned to the beach to try and dance, but the pain wasn't worth it and he curled against the rock he and Loki had once enjoyed each other by. 

Maybe an hour before Tom needed to return for dinner, Emma returned to the beach. Her long hair had been shorn away and she held a glinting dagger between her hands. When Tom met her, she held the dagger out to him and explained, "If you use this dagger to kill your prince before he can promise his Forever Love to this princess, then sprinkle his blood over your feet, you can return to the Life." 

Tom shrugged. 

Emma caught his hands. "Tom, _please_ ," she whispered, bright turquoise eyes wide and desperate. "Please come home. Please don't leave us knowing you died in sorrow. Do it for me, if not for yourself." 

Tom sighed and took the dagger. For Emma. 

They remained together for a little longer, Emma trying to remind him of the glories of existing in the Life. When he left, at last, Tom began to think it might be nice to go home and finish his existence with his sisters and friends in the Life. Maybe he could even look for their mother, at last, and find someone new to call him 'Thomas', to fill the hollow that would surely be left. 

The more he thought of returning home, the more it eased the pieces of his ruined heart. And, the more he saw Loki laughing with Sigyn over dinner, the more he saw Emma's view; it wasn't fair that Loki should exist in happiness while Tom faded away to nothing in sorrow. 

Tom helped Loki to his sleep clothing, shrugged when the prince made a distracted enquiry about his visit with his sister, and pretended he was going to sleep when Loki finally turned in. And when Loki's breathing had evened out, Tom crept from his smaller bed in the corner and pulled out the dagger. It glinted in the White Circle's light as he held it over the sleeping form of his prince, and the light reflected on to Loki's face. 

And Tom realised that, for all his heart had been ruined beyond repair, it still felt love for the beautiful face that had brought him to the Above. 

He couldn't kill Loki. He couldn't destroy his love's existence just because Loki's heart had ended Tom's own. 

He slipped the dagger into the drawer he kept all the other things he'd received from the false betrayals of his prince in, then crawled back into his bed and curled into a ball to sleep, silently apologising to his sisters even in his dreams. 

\--

The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear. It was to be held on the beach where Loki and Sigyn had met, and all the castle and town were full of excitement. Thor had suggested that Tom might be left to duties in the castle, rather than being made to attend the wedding ceremony, but Loki was adamant that his manservant attend him on the beach. When Thor might have pressed the matter, Tom shook his head; he would like to have warning before he faded to nothing, no matter the pain it would cause. 

So Tom helped Loki dress in his finest tunic and breeches, then scrabbled to change into the clothing Loki had ordered for him while the prince muttered about lazy servants. 

They walked down to the beach together, Tom a half-step behind his prince. Tom remained at Loki's side as the last minute details were seen to, then stepped back, closer to the Life, as Sigyn appeared. 

Tom watched with a sad smile as Loki and Sigyn traded vows of Forever Love, and sealed their promise with a kiss. And the last thing Tom saw, was Loki smiling as bright as the White Circle, hair blowing the the wind as dark as the night sky. And his eyes – oh – those eyes the colour of a heart broken, so full of a love Tom would never have. 

\--

"Have you seen Thomas?" Loki asked Thor, having asked near everyone else that had attended the ceremony. 

"He's gone," Thor replied, voice bland. 

Loki blinked. " _Gone_?" he repeated. "Gone _where_?"

Thor shook his head and walked away, calling back, "Gone forever." 

Loki frowned. That couldn't be right. Thomas had nowhere to go, wasn't the sort to just up and _leave_. Loki couldn't have read him so wrong, not after two years. 

He returned to his room, brushing off questions as to his wellbeing, and looked to Thomas' corner. All of his things remained just the way they had been that morning, and Loki knew he'd be back. Thomas had likely just gone for a walk. He wouldn't miss dinner. 

Thomas missed dinner, though, and he never returned in the night, though Loki waited up for him while Sigyn slept peacefully in their bed. Thomas didn't return the next day, nor the next, and Loki finally had to admit that his brother had spoken true: Thomas wouldn't be returning. 

"You can get a new manservant," Sigyn pointed out, rolling her eyes at how he'd worried over Thomas' absence. 

"I don't _want_ a 'new manservant'," Loki snapped, glaring up at her from where he was going through Thomas' papers, trying to see if he'd left a clue as to where he'd gone. _Why_ he'd gone. 

Sigyn threw her hands in the air. "Well, I'm tired of doing everything for myself. I'm having your father find us new servants. Someone can pack up this boy's things." She stalked off. 

Loki wouldn't let anyone else touch Thomas' things, but packed them all up himself and kept them in a sack next to his desk, refusing to be rid of it when Sigyn complained. He found nothing in Thomas' papers to explain his absence, though there was a dagger among his possessions that Loki couldn't remember having seen before. He kept it in his belt, puzzling over its existence, wondering what new betrayals had come to light in those last days which Loki had been too distracted to listen to. 

His new servants could all talk, and not a one could write or read. They betrayed him without pause for money from his enemies, and he had them killed every time he caught them. (It never took him long, because he kept track of his servants' belongings, and new acquisitions were more telling than missing papers or spread secrets.) Odin no longer complained at how quickly Loki went through servants, for Sigyn was happy with him, and if Sigyn was happy, her father was willing to share peace. 

Sometimes, Loki would travel down to that beach. He no longer looked for Sigyn in the rocks, but a silent man who smiled as bright as the sun and had eyes so brilliant a turquoise, they rivalled the sea. 

And, sometimes, if the tide was coming in just right, Loki swore he saw Thomas dancing in the sea foam, leaping from turquoise wave to turquoise wave, as though he'd been born for it. And Loki would smile, feeling lighter for the mirage.

**Author's Note:**

> In closing...  
> I hadn't, originally, intended for Loki to return Tom's love, but Loki demanded a mutual handjob at the beach, and I wasn't about to argue with him about it. (He's a god, man. You don't argue with gods.) That last bit from Loki's PoV was added because Loki returned Tom's love, to sort of explain how he dealt with his disappearance.  
> And Thor was actually watching Tom when he faded away into the sea. He doesn't know that Tom was a merman, but he's sharp enough to figure out that Tom isn't coming back, and that he vanished because Loki was marrying another. It's even odds if he'll ever explain that to Loki, or if he'll forgive Loki for breaking Tom's heart.
> 
> In the original story, merfolk didn't go to Heaven when they died, they turned into sea foam. I had trouble getting that explanation into this story – especially since these merpeople cannot exist above the waves but for one day in their life, unlike in the original, so I wasn't sure they'd understand that they faded away into sea foam – but it is, sort of, there at the end; even as sea foam, Tom performed for Loki, because he still loved him.
> 
> Next month is the _Steadfast Tin Soldier_ , so expect more tears and angst. (March is _Frog Prince_. That one'll end happily.)  
>  Sorry for the tears. (Okay, not really.)  
> ~Bats ^.^x


End file.
